


Critmas 2020 Ficlet Compilation

by ModernDayBard



Series: CR Ficlets/Drabbles [5]
Category: Critical Role (Web Series)
Genre: Alternate Universe - College/University, Alternate Universe - Pokemon Fusion, Angst/Comfort, AtLA AU, F/F, F/M, Fake Dating, Fluff, Found Family, Love Through Food, M/M, One Shot Collection, Pokemon Crossover, Pokémon Trainer AU, Pranks!, Romantic Gestures, Video Game AU, Whump, and you're the healer, because its caduceus, because somebody has to, because those always go so well..., brief vox machina cameo, but light on the 'comfort' tbh, changed rating for language, coffee shop AU, de-aged wizard, fairy tale AU, fighting the tomb takers, fjord can't say no to jester, from little Jester!, heist plans, hypothetical pokemon teams, in the mission impossible sort of vein, its not described too vividly, kind of, learning to love at least, lets have a happy story, molly reunites with the nein, monster/creature au, mothering rogue style, not so much for the violence honestly, sick!fic, space travel au, spy AU, well tea shop, what do you do when magic doesn't work, who can blame her, will update tags as i wirte, yasha has nightmares, yeza is a sweetheart
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-12-01
Updated: 2020-12-24
Packaged: 2021-03-10 03:21:43
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 25
Words: 17,458
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/27807484
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/ModernDayBard/pseuds/ModernDayBard
Summary: Since This went well last year, I am once again doing my annual holiday fic focused on Critical Role, but this year the Mighty Nein (including Molly) get to shine!  I took the eight of them and divided various fic prompts, genres, and AU’s between them, then made sure at least one fic for each had a bonus winter/holiday prompt as well.I will be posting the results each day, December 1-25, and updating the tags as I go!Chapters 1-3: Veth BrenattoChapters 4-6: Caleb WidogastChapters 7-9: Beauregard LionettChapters 10-12: Jester LavorreChapters 13-15: Fjord StoneChapters 16-18: Caduceus ClayChapters 19-21: Yasha NydoorinChapters 22-24: Mollymauk TealeafChapter 25: Something Sepcial!
Relationships: Beauregard Lionett/Yasha, Fjord/Jester Lavorre, Mollymauk Tealeaf/Caleb Widogast, Yeza Brenatto/Nott | Veth Brenatto
Series: CR Ficlets/Drabbles [5]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1559092
Comments: 46
Kudos: 193





	1. Veth: Sweet Somethings

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 1st-  
> Character: Veth Brenatto
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Baking  
> Bonus Holiday Prompt: Gift

Cooking is an art— _baking_ is a science. (Chemistry, at that.)

When it came to food (and to tea), there was no denying that Caduceus was as much an artist as Jester was, but if any of the Nein could be called a ‘scientist,’ well that would be the rogue—wouldn’t it? (And even before she was a chemist…even before she was an alchemist’s wife…she was a young girl growing up in a small farming village—some things even _she_ was expected to learn.)

Her recipes and experiments certainly got bolder after she began to dabble in chemistry herself (though the flavors were certainly… _affected_ by goblin tastes during her transformed period, as much as she tried to resist), and meeting the rest of the Nein gave her seven good reasons to explore different kinds of baked treats.

Jester, for instance, was easy: anything sweet was happily devoured by the bubbly tiefling, though learning about Nicodranas’ famous cinnamon pastries gave Veth some ideas to help stave off homesickness, and her willingness to try (and like) more bizarre flavors, like the black moss cupcakes, was certainly noted.

Caleb was both simple and not simple: from the beginning, Veth had fretted and worried about how skinny and starved her boy seemed to be (well, life on the road _was_ hard). When possible, she tried to make the most palatable _and_ nutritious treats, to get some meat on his bones, only to discover that the hard part was getting him to remember to eat at all—particularly when engaged in his studies. (She learned to make them small, numerous, and easy to mindlessly snack on while otherwise engaged.)

Beau didn’t _mind_ sweets (particularly those with some kind of boozy glaze, which Veth could get behind 100%), but both she and Fjord did seem to generally lean towards the savory side of things—hearty meat-and/or-cheese pastries, especially when they’d been training a lot. Of course, she rarely could resist adding an extra kick of throat-searing spice to them (especially Fjord’s).

With Caduceus, she was _again_ worried about him not eating well/enough, but _also_ had to work with his vegetarian diet to get some proper nutrients into their firbolg! Hearty nut breads, experiments with various mushrooms—fortunately, his palate was either very easy to please, or else he was too polite to criticize.

Yasha, though even now still a little terrifying, was the only one in the group who shared Veth’s… _unusual_ tastes acquitted during goblin-hood (several of which lingered, post-transformation), and so was often on the receiving end of some of the more… _exotic_ experiments.

(Mollymauk, during his too-brief time with the Nein, didn’t show any strong preferences, but made a point of trying anything and everything at least once—and in that., was actually a pretty ideal taste-tester.)

Of course, rogue that she was, Veth couldn’t simply _present_ her culinary concoctions to her friends—oh, no. No, she _had_ to go through the elaborate game of slipping them into packs and travel bags unseen through skill and magical trickery, so that the recipient would later find their ‘mysterious and anonymous’ goodies.

It just wasn’t any fun, otherwise.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this idea is basically an expansion of my ‘mothering rogue style’ one-shot from Chapter 27 of my 2020 CR Fics compilation, Whispers. Hey, baking treats to give away is one of my favorite holiday traditions, so I just had to have a version of it here! (and you can’t tell me that a halfling form a farming village with a husband and young son doesn’t know how to make some damn good home-baked treats.)


	2. Veth: But Are You Sure?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 2nd—  
> Character: Veth Brenatto
> 
> 'Genre' Prompt: Fluff

Veth was getting married, because that’s what you were supposed to do.

You grew up, learned your family’s trade, or another from someone lese in the village, or else you learned to keep house and raise a family, and then you got married, made a family, started a life. It’s what you _did_ (at least, what you did in Felderwin—Veth hadn’t ever been anywhere else.)

And it wasn’t as though she were _un_ happy with how things had gone, either: she genuinely liked Yeza, and he (even more surprisingly) even seemed to like her, too! Living with him would be so much better than life at home, in so many ways.

It was just…sometimes, she didn’t feel quite cut out for it, you know? She _cold_ cook and clean (oh, how her mother had seen to that), but she wasn’t exceptionally great at either and learning hadn’t come easy. She _could_ mend clothes and sew seams that would hold together, but they were far from pretty (or exactly straight), and delicate work like embroidery or other decorative needlework required patience she just couldn’t muster for it.

(It was just like she’d always been told: she wasn’t good enough, not what she was supposed to be.)

She wondered if there was still time to let Yeza know—let him off of the hook. (It would _hurt_ to lose the only one who’d ever looked at her like he did, but surely he deserved better?) Only, every time that she mustered up the courage to go and talk to him about it…

Well, the first time, he’d been working on one of his experiments, working overtime to establish and grow his position as an alchemist to support them and the family they would have, and she asked about it to be polite (and because that was a _much_ easier conversation to start than the one she’d come about).

To her surprise, he didn’t wave off the question or tell her it was something that she couldn’t understand, but instead brightened, eager to share his thought process, what he hoped to achieve with this particular setup. He explained, not dumbing down or patronizing, but willing to stop and answer what questions she broke in with. When Veth cautiously made a suggestion based on what he’d said and what she’d seen, Yeza wasn’t frustrated, embarrassed, or dismissive—his eyes flew open wide and he rushed to his notes to jot it down, then implement it, beaming as the missing piece finally clicked into place.

(In the end, they passed the afternoon working and collaborating together, and the subject of breaking off the engagement never came up…)

Then, the second time, she figured that there was a simple way to bring it up organically (and let it be his idea, as well): she would offer to make him lunch. That way, he could see (and taste) for himself what he’d be getting himself into if he settled for her.

Only, when she brought it up, he hesitantly asked if they could cook together, instead, At first, she thought that it was a start—that he didn’t trust her culinary skills—only then he went on to shyly admit that he genuinely enjoyed cooking but wasn’t much good at it yet, and he was wondering if he could learn from her by helping her. Veth agreed, and just like the time before, the two halflings got so caught up in talking through steps and recipes (and recipe variations) and why the process was what it was (and how it could be improved) that the day passed without any mention of ending their engagement.

( _And_ lunch turned out delicious—Veth had never had so much fun in a kitchen before.)

On the third and final time, he’d come to her—stopped by on his way home from the market, he’d said, and wanted to see her. (‘This is your chance; tell him _now_ ,’ the voice in her head—that sounded a lot like her brothers’—screamed at her.)

“I-I know you like collecting things—pretty little things,” Yeza began, and Veth had the fleeting thought that this was it, that he’d found his own deal breaker (her oft-misunderstood collection). "So, when I saw this at the general store, I thought of you. I, uh, realize now that I don’t know if you already have something like it or if it doesn’t fit in with the rest of your collection, but I, um, I wanted to give it to you.”

And so saying, he held out a small wooden carved flower—well-made for being handmade (not artisan, but crafted carefully nevertheless), the blossom painted a cheerful shade of yellow (her favorite color). Nothing expensive or practical, but pretty, just like the knickknacks that she liked to collect. “It’s beautiful,” she whispered, gently taking it, then looking up to see the cutest smile she’d ever seen on Yeza’s face—still hesitant and a little shy, as was his manner, but beaming now at seeing _her_ happiness—happiness in a little thing that he’d gone out of his way to get for her (a little thing that was no small thing…)

After that day, Veth never even _thought_ about bringing up her fears or self-doubts regarding their marriage, never worried that they ought to break it off; if the home that they would build wouldn’t be _exactly_ the norm for Felderwin, it would be _theirs_ , and they’d be happy.

Veth was getting married, because that’s what she _wanted_ to do.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I just figured Yeza being an amazing, supportive sweetheart isn’t a new thing since their separation and reunion…and I figured Veth was probably down on herself a lot, given how she talked about how she was teased and insulted a lot by at least her brothers and their friends, even before. And so, this was born…


	3. Veth: Tale as Old as Time?

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 3rd—  
> Character: Veth Brenatto
> 
> AU Prompt: Fairy Tale AU

Once upon a time, an Evil Witch cursed a brave Young Woman, twisting and warping her face and form into that of a monster.

The Young Woman was devastated and at a loss for what to do—if she were a Fair Princess, surely a Handsome Prince or Noble Peasant would soon have been along to break her curse. But she was no princess, just an ordinary woman who’d already found a husband—had a child.

She had already _found_ her Happy Ending, and now she had lost it.

...

So, she fled, desperate to break her curse and return home after, but knowing she could not do so on her own.

Eventually, the Young Woman found others who _surely_ could help her with her curse: a Powerful Wizard with magic to counter the Evil Witch’s spell, a Beautiful Princess newly freed from her tower, a Young Man whose ordinary life belied great potential, a Mighty Warrior with a magical sword, a Curious Scholar determined to seek out truth, and a Wise Hermit with mysterious powers. (There had been another, the Motley Fool, but his part of the tale had been cut short, though his impact lingered still.) Surely _they_ could put her tale to rights!

…

Only…

Only the once-skilled Wizard was piecing himself back together from shattered, jagged shards; the Princess had been freed, not by a Prince or Knight, but by a Trickster (and her own cleverness), and she was, perhaps, unprepared for what she was finding in the world beyond; the Young Man was no simple, honest soul, but a pretender playing the part of another, piling lie on top of lie to build a new self that he liked better; the Warrior was not strong enough to stay, her will too often not her own; the scholar was more than willing to use her fists as the means to truth and well-used to lying through her teeth; the Hermit carried the loneliness of unwanted solitude buried deeper than even his own keen insight could see. Whatever story each was supposed to have been a part of, surely it was as lost to them as the Young Woman’s was to her.

…

Only...

Only, through and for the others, the Wizard was beginning to heal, his power regained and growing with his confidence; the Princess gave her heart not to some rescuer, but to _them_ while she took the time to sort out what sort of person she would love, and they showed her how her heart was to be treasured by those it was trusted to; the Young Man learned to use speak truth _and_ use lies both, as he finally found those who considered his true self good and worthy; the Warrior was freed, able to be and bare the gentle soul within, taking up her sword as a protector, not a monster; the Scholar learned patience, yes, but also that her approach, her very _self_ were what was needed so desperately; and the hermit, so long without his family, found that he had not one, but _two_ after all, and would never again want for those to care about and for him.

…

And, yes, in time, the Yong Woman _was_ freed from her curse, returned to her true self, but though she reunited with her family, she didn’t yet choose to stay with them—

—There were some Happily Ever Afters she had to go and help chase down, first.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when I was listing out various AU ideas for this fic series, I almost gave the Fairy Tale AU to Jester, since the princess-in-the-tower parallel is sitting right there. But it also occurred to me that Veth’s story of being transformed by a hag is ALSO straight out of a fairy tale, and that got me thinking about what ‘stories’ one would assume they each embody, and why they maybe don’t, on a second look…(And what they might be, anyway)


	4. Caleb: Child’s Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 4th—  
> Character: Caleb Widogast
> 
> Scenario Prompt: De-Age or Polymorph

The Mighty Nein _knew_ —had been repeatedly told—that teleportation magic came with huge risks in Eiselcross. But with over half their party one bad sneeze away from unconscious and _both_ their clerics nearly completely tapped, Caleb was desperate enough to try (and, admittedly, just arrogant enough to think that _he_ might be able to pull it off, unscathed…)

* * *

When the disorientation (stronger than any previous time teleporting) passed, the others instantly realized that something had, in fact, gone wrong. And it wasn’t just the fact that they were in an open field by a dirt road and _not_ Nicodranas, as had been the intent, either.

After all, their wizard was _not_ usually a bright-eyed young boy no older than four or five.

…

Caleb—well, Bren, actually, as they were swiftly corrected by the boy—was a surprisingly happy and energetic child, given his adult self (a fact that had each of them privately doubling down on their resolve to destroy Trent Ikithon in the way that would bring him the most pain possible), near-constantly babbling in a mix of Common and Zemnian that only Beau could come _close_ to understanding.

They were able to establish some things pretty quickly: no, Bren didn’t remember events beyond his current (reduced) age; no, he didn’t _exactly_ know the Nein, but he did, apparently instinctively, know that they were his friends (‘In here,’ he said in Common, pointing at his heart, which made Jester and Veth both about melt on the spot); and no, he didn’t know where they were or what was happening, but didn’t seem overly bothered by that fact (apparently content that he was with his friends and assuming that they were in control of the situation.)

“You guys _can_ fix this—right?” Beau hissed to the clerics as Veth and Yasha distracted the child with some little game. “I mean, tomorrow?”

“If Greater Restoration can, then yes,” was Caduceus’ ever-calm answer.

Jester froze at a sudden thought, turning to the firbolg with her violet eyes wide and worried. “What if it _can’t_? What if Caleb is _stuck_ like this? I mean, he’s a super cute kid and he actually seems pretty happy which is so nice to see for a change, but I’m not ready to raise a kid!”

“Well, we can always try asking for help.”

“I don’t know, Caduceus; Mama is even busier now than she was when I was a little girl. I don’t think she’d have the time to raise—”

Caduceus shook his head, one eyebrow ever so slightly raised. “Divine Intervention? Or Sending a message to anther wizard that we know?”

“Oh-OOHHH!” Jester nodded, giggling. “Yeah, that makes much more sense. I can _totally_ prep Sending if you have Greater restoration tomorrow!”

* * *

So, they set up their camp in what they could only assume was some part of the Zemni fields, doing their best to keep an eye on the small child who only wanted to _run_ and _play_ and _explore_. Veth slipped into ‘parenting mode’ easily enough, and Jester was more than willing to be a co-conspirator and playmate (with Beau translating as best as she could), but most of the rest found themselves growing increasing uncomfortable (except, perhaps, for Caduceus, who was entirely focused on preparing that night’s meal—they needed a treat, after the day that they’d had.)

All at once, Bren came racing back (likely drawn by the scent of the food), snatching up his portion eagerly before planting himself on a startled Yasha’s lap and digging in. The Aasimar was momentarily stunned, and seemed afraid of hurting the little boy who trusted her so implicitly, but gradually relaxed over the course of the meal.

The reality of ‘no dome/tower tonight’ was present in all of their minds as bedrolls were laid out (and arranged so that Bren would be surrounded by a protective ring of wary adventurers) and each was grateful that they had made it out of Eiselcross’ deadly cold _before_ Caleb had been affected by the strange magic of the far north.

“I’ll take first watch,” Fjord offered, Star Razer still in his hand from the last fight—the Hexblade Paladin having been too on edge to dismiss it since. To his surprise, ~~Caleb~~ Bren sat next to him, apparently not yet tired.

Now it was the half-orc’s turn to hesitate, his only example of childcare being his own poor excuse for an upbringing, and he felt he only knew what _not_ to do, not what _to_ do. Then one tiny hand reached up, pointing at the symbol of the Wildmother pinned to his cloak. “What’s that?”

So, Fjord told the child about Melora, about how she’d called to him in his dreams (leaving out as much about Uk’otoa as he could), about finding and forging the sword. Bren was clearly interested, at first asking question after question—some of which Fjord struggled to answer—but soon he clearly began losing a battle with drowsiness. Eventually Bren caved, curling against Fjord’s side and falling asleep. The paladin pulled his cloak to better cover the sleeping boy, and when Beau relieved him a few hours later, she said not a word as he carefully carried Bren to his bedroll in the center of their circle and tucked him in before turning in himself.

* * *

When both Greater Restoration _and_ Divine Intervention failed to work, the Mighty Nein were faced with a difficult question: who should they message for help?

For a variety of reasons, the Cerberus Assembly was off the table _immediately_ (if that had been their only course of ‘fixing’ this, then the best way for Caleb to be an adult again was growing up the natural way all over again). Pumat would likely be willing to help, but would he be able?

(In the end, the fact that they had no swift way of _reaching_ Zadash ruled the Sols out anyway.)

Which…actually brought up a valid point: without Caleb, the only place that they could get to in any kind of a hurry was Nicodranas, courtesy of the clerics, which how would mean going to Yussa (who they couldn’t remember if he owed them anymore, or if that ‘debt’ had been settled already…) But Caleb had always been tense and wary around the other mage, and the thought of him trying to trade a favor for a favor or else put them back in his ‘debt’ made them hesitate, even if he seemed to have, at worst, neutral objectives.

(There was Essek of course, except for one **_massive_** problem: the Shadowhand was still in Eiselcross, and thus any attempts made to get to them quickly on his part ran the risk of landing him in the exact same predicament as Caleb—if not worse!)

Which brought them back around to Yussa again, in conversation, as much as several of them disliked the idea.

“What else can we do?” Fjord broke in. “It’s not like we know any other powerful magic users besides him and that Allura lady…”

There was silent pause, as shared glance, then Fjord looked to Jester and raised his hands, ready to count.

_“Hi Allura, it’s Jester. We need your help—Caleb’s spell went wrong and now he’s a kid and we’re stuck in a field. Greater Restoration—”_

She cast the spell again.

_“—didn’t work and he didn’t change back overnight and we can’t go anywhere to get help. we don’t know what to do—can you help?”_

A pause. Then:

_“Let me scry so that I can find you; I’ll bring some friends. Between Scanlan, Pike, Keyleth, and I, I’m sure we can get this sorted.”_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not too much to say on this one, Caleb was my obvious choice for this one, since the contrast between childhood and adulthood for him is just so deliciously sad to play with. There wasn’t really a plan, I just wanted to give the Nein a little time with mini-Caleb, then got the slightly-silly idea to make it a lead in to the Vox Machina/Mighty Nein crossover that’s so fun to imagine…


	5. Caleb: Out of His Shell

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 5th—  
> Character: Caleb Widogast
> 
> 'Genre' Prompt: Slice-of-Life  
> Bonus Holiday Prompt: Music

Each of the Mighty Nein had had their roles onboard ship from nearly the start—way back on the _Mist(ake)_.

But Caleb’s role had been made redundant immediately.

Sure, he always knew where north was, but Orly was the navigator familiar with the seas, stars, currents, trade routes, reefs, and island of the Lucidian Ocean, and it was immediately and abundantly clear that an internal compass, however useful, was insufficient on its own for a ship’s navigator.

The wizard didn’t mind though: early on, he was grateful that the responsibility on his shoulders was that much lessened and that he was free(er) to observe Avantika—to plan. But on subsequent voyages (and admittedly, even at first), it was also rather fun to be in a position to learn from a master of his craft, an expert in his field.

(No matter the subject, Caleb Widogast _loved_ to learn.)

And Orly seemed to love to teach, patient with questions. And possessed of the down-to-earth manner of someone completely confident in themselves and their knowledge without being arrogant. There was little in the way of jargon or needlessly complicated answers, and no hesitation or uncertainty, either. And he was _personable_ , easy to talk to, and generous (and genuine) with praise for any of his students.

It was a nice—if strange, at first—change of pace.

So Caleb never asked for his role to be swapped for any other, but sought out the Tortle any time they boarded the _Mist(ake),_ the _Ball eater_ , or the _Nein Heroez_. In time, the lessons became sprinkled with other topics—especially comparing their magics, tis sources and means of harnessing the arcane energy in the world, how they channeled and directed it in their own ways, why in so many circles the arcane was described in visual terms with glyphs and sigils and such, while bardic magic _proved_ there was _some_ kind of connection to sound—to music—there was _some_ thing there, so why was it not studied, what was it?

(He did, however, draw the line at leaning at learning to play the bagpipes—to everyone’s relief.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Didn’t really have a pan for this one, and it probably shows…But with both yesterday’s and tomorrow’s being as long as they were/are, I suppose a little bit of burnout in the middle isn’t all that surprising…


	6. Caleb: Everything Changed When…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 6th—  
> Character: Caleb Widogast
> 
> AU Prompt: Avatar: The Last Airbender AU

The Empire, home to most of the world’s Fire and Earth Benders, has lost the Avatar.

Not officially, of course: officially, the Avtar is ‘in training’ still, but rumors of their death eleven years ago were never really disputed, and it is hard to miss the intense (and invasive) interest the ruling elite have in the wandering Air Nomad tribes in the south of Dynasty territory. (Which, of course, does nothing to ease tensions between the Bender-dominated Empire and the Dynasty that chooses to focus on Spirits and the Spirit Realm to the point of dismissing bending as ‘base’ and ‘distracting’ from the _truly_ important part of life: the inner. In the last decade, shadow wars have occasionally broken into open battle, and the general consensus of the average citizenry is easily summarized as ‘will the Avatar go ahead and grow up, show up, and put a _stop_ to this already?')

Even the Water Benders of the Menagerie Coast (and, in lesser numbers, in Eiselcross), who have mostly managed to keep a neutral stance even while trading predominately with the Empire, are tired of the whole business and want life (and business) to return to normal as soon as possible.

But for now, and for who knows how much longer, the ‘new normal’ prevails.

* * *

And it is in this ‘new normal’ that the group known as the Mighty Nein have found themselves by finding each other.

Fjord and Jester both originally hail from the Menagerie Coast, the half-orc still struggling slightly with the Water Bending abilities he only recently realized that he has, but patiently accepting coaching and advice from Jester, who has studied the subject despite not being a bender herself, in hopes of connecting with the Water Bender father she’d been searching for for so long.

Then there was Beau, the Empire-born non-bender who has seemingly made it her goal to learn the bending styles of all four elements as forms of hand-to-hand combat (though she is _certainly_ not above a basic, bare-knuckles brawl).

Rarely far from Beau (at least, when she isn’t far from the whole group), is Yasha, an Air Bender with quite the imposing presence. There is no hiding or disguising her connection to the Nomads, despite her reluctance to speak of her home and her past, and the large, quiet woman draws quite a number of questioning glances, despite _clearly_ being too old to be the Avatar herself. (But did you ever see them? Do you know them? Are they from _your_ tribe?)

(It hardly seems likely to the Nein, as the aasimar’s seemingly only pre-group connection had been Mollymauk, the amnesiac water bending tiefling who refused to investigate his own past during his too-short life, after discovering that blood bending came _far_ too naturally to him for comfort—whoever had landed themselves into the grave that he’d crawled out of was _not_ someone he had wanted to know.)

After losing Molly, the Nein had been joined by Caduceus Clay, an earth bending firbolg from just outside the Empire finally ready to experience life beyond his family’s isolated home/graveyard—and hopefully find his family along the way.

Veth, the halfling that is the group’s other Earth Bender, can hardly be more different from the gentle firbolg: quick hands and a quicker mind, inquisitive and intelligent—if occasionally unobservant or even abrasive—fiercely loyal and defensive, and aggressive in her retribution (whether blatant or subtle) against anyone who _dared_ hurt her family, (blood-kin, or the one that she has chosen, has claimed.)

The first of them to be claimed by her had been Caleb, the Fire Bender barely a shell of a man when she met him, struggling to piece himself back together after some past he refused to speak of had torn him apart and spat him out.

(He can still feel it, sometimes—the experiments that were interspersed with the ‘lessons’ in loyalty and proper use of their bending gifts; experiments with the newly-discovered methods of condensing spiritual energy down into crystalline, physical form. Could the crystals be inserted into their bodies, to heighten the abilities they already preserved? Could the spirit within _him_ have some of its power siphoned, made into crystals that could ‘share’ his gift with others? Could he be replicated as well as formed, trained?)

(He can still _hear_ them, sometimes—the agonized, dying screams that pierced straight through him, woke him up—but not in time to _save_ them—and woke something else within him, too: the Avatar State, in all it’s destructive potential, and there was not enough will left in him at that point to control it, direct it. He awoke leagues away, exhausted, broken, _haunted_ by those screams, hollowed out by what he had done, become.)

 _Let the Avatar be dead; I am not he,_ he had thought as he slunk through shadows and filth, hiding from those who had warped him—who would do so much _worse_ than kill him, if they found him. But he is _not_ so dead as even he had thought, and every day the others bring him more and more back to life. It was long, _so_ long, before he told them, revealed that he was studying them, their techniques, and training himself in secret for the mantle he’d cast aside more than a decade before; so long before he revealed the mess that he is and found himself embraced, not cast aside, before his _friends_ began to train him in earnest, darkly eying the elites who have turned a blind eye for far too long…

* * *

Yes, the Empire has lost the Avatar…and they will rue the day that _he_ finds _them_ …

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I remember once reading this really good ATLA AU fic for the Mighty Nein (that I have sadly long-since lost), so I decided to give doing my own take on the concept a try! I actually sat down to figure out who would be what kind of bender before I picked which was the Avatar—honestly, I hadn’t wanted to do Caleb at first, because I didn’t want to make the equivalent of the Fire Nation evil yet again, but his story just worked too well for a compelling Avatar tragedy…


	7. Beau: Mission? Possibly…

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 7th—  
> Character: Beauregard Lionett
> 
> Scenario Prompts: Heist/Scheme

The plan was simple.

Well, the plan was actually kind of complicated…but the _goal_ was simple: some rich asshole thought that he could get away with screwing over the Cobalt Soul and hoarding some pilfered artefacts, so some good, old-fashioned payback/humiliation was in order… (oh, yeah: _and_ they’d get the artefacts back, too…)

There was a conveniently-timed gala several streets away from the target’s mansion that the man in question would be attending. It was a simple forgery on Jester’s part to produce an invitation for Fjord so the half-orc could keep eyes on the target and stall for time, if it became necessary.

(There was some concern that Fjord would be the only one without backup ~~when~~ if anything went wrong, so Caleb reluctantly changed Frumpkin into an easily-concealed pygmy owl with orders to alert the wizard if Fjord whispered the code word—which was, for some inexplicable reason, ‘parcheesi’.)

While that was going on, Team 1, Veth and Caleb (‘just like the good old days,’) were tasked with breaking into the man’s hidden vault and retrieving the stolen artefacts for the Cobalt Soul (and anything else that caught their eye, for themselves…after all, Beau had urged discretion, but not abstinence…)

For once, the rich asshole in question didn’t have the vault in his actual house—but it _was_ on a property listed in his name, so intelligent precautions apparently only went _so_ far—and between the rogue and the wizard, there wasn’t much in the way of security capable of keeping them out for long.

In the actual manor would be Team 2, Jester and Beau (‘chaos crew!’). The monk would get them in (or Jester would Dimension Door them in, in a pinch), then Beau would snag any incrementing (or simply interesting) documents before joining in Jester’s prank-spree, after which the cleric would bamf them back out.

(You know, the usual stuff—moving furniture just a few inches off so he’d keep bumping into stuff without knowing why, drawing dicks in the most _bizarre_ places so that it would be _months_ before he found them all—and even longer before he’d be sure that he had—stealing one sock out of every other pair and braiding a rope of impossible knots out of them, swapping the salt and sugar in the kitchen, a few innocuous trip wires and water buckets over doors, and the piece de resistance: using Jester’s magic paints to create a hole under a large area rug in a second-floor study—just big enough to get stuck halfway through, not fall to the floor below. You know: standard stuff.)

Team 3, Yasha and Caduceus, hit the greenhouse on the manor grounds, as their initial recon had uncovered some shady dealings to get his hands on some rare (and even dangerous) plants. They weren’t sure why he wanted them, exactly, but enough were poisonous to raise concerns.

Yasha took the time to gather a bouquet (and some individual flowers perfect for pressing) from the plants that Caduceus pointed out as safe, then the firbolg released some spores and wildflower seeds that barely needed _any_ magical encouragement to take over and run rampant. By morning, a much more natural ecosystem would be present in the greenhouse.

…

By midnight, Caleb was teleporting them back to the Cobalt Soul in Zadash to hand over the artefacts and the papers, to report their success, and then to vanish before the results of their meddling could be traced back to a visually distinct, very unusual, but _definitely_ effective group.

So, yeah: Simple plan.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to showcase Beau as the planner/scheme master, but then I realized one slight problem: I’m nowhere near as good at planning or strategizing… Well, we all know that plans rarely last long in D&D, so maybe it’s all for the best! 
> 
> (If this was a session, I’d imagine it would be one of those shenanigan-filled ones that has the cast rolling with each new moment they improvise as the chaos multiples exponentially…)


	8. Beau: By Your Side

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 8th—  
> Character: Beauregard Lionett
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: sick!Fic  
> Bonus Holiday Prompt: Hope

There was _no_ reason for Beau to be worried:

Sure, the Nein’s latest escapade had seen the monk and the barbarian split off temporarily form the rest of the party, but they were already at the rendezvous point with barely over twenty-four hours until all the casters should be returning; and yeah, Yasha wasn’t the sort of person you’d _expect_ to suddenly fall ill, but it wasn’t like she was _dying_ and they had no less than three friends who would be able to cure her in seconds as soon as they arrived.

There was _no_ reason for Beau to be worried.

(Knowing that didn’t help her stop, though.)

* * *

At least Yasha wasn’t trying to get out of bed anymore—Beau was strong, but there was only _so_ many times she could catch the other woman as she collapsed and wrestle her back into the bed before she wore herself out. (She was _done_ giving a damn about what the people who’d rented the inn rooms on either side of them thought, she had more _important_ things to care about.)

Still, feverish delirium probably wasn’t any better.

Beau hated to leave Yasha alone when she was like this—tossing, turning, and occasionally calling out, but it _was_ her one chance to run downstairs and get some food to have ready for when the other woman was lucid enough to eat something.

The older dwarven woman in charge of this inn’s kitchens must’ve seen her coming, because there was already a tray with two bowls of soup on it ready by the time Beau reached her to ask about food. “It’s an old family recipe,” the cook said as Beau stammered her thanks. “Good for just about all that ails you, and nice and comforting on cold, grey days like today. Figure’d it’d make a good lunch special to offer today. You want me to keep a bowl back for her supper, too, or do you think she’ll be up for solid food by then?”

“I don’t know,” Beau muttered, a stranger’s kindness catching her more off-guard than almost any attack or betrayal. “Hard to say, so maybe the soup is a safer bet. Probably. Thank you. Really.”

She started to go, but a thought stopped her and turned her around. “I-If she can though, would you be able to make some pancakes, maybe?”

It felt like such a silly thing to ask someone who’d never seen the look of soft wonder on Yasha’s face whenever there were pancakes to be had, but the dwarven woman only smiled. “Shouldn’t be too hard—there’s sure to be some folks who’d appreciate breakfast for dinner, so we can offer pancakes tonight, sure.”

Beau thanked her again and fled before she lost control of her emotions—besides, she didn’t want Yasha to wake up, find her gone, and worry. Or—or the soup to get cold.

Yeah, that was it. Totally.

* * *

Yasha had finished the small bowlful of soup, spoonful by spoonful, but had kept mumbling to Beau the whole time as though the monk were Molly and the two of them were still with the carnival—though she did keep asking about the Nein, so apparently things were still _very_ muddled in her fevered mind.

Then, she’d slept again, but more soundly this time, and when she woke that afternoon, while she was still too warm, sweating and shivering, she was at least aware of her surroundings again, and slightly-glassy eyes locked onto to Beau and actually _saw_ her.

“Beau…you shouldn’t be here…don’t want…you to catch…”

The monk squirmed, shrugged, and tried to look cool and unconcerned (while _painfully_ aware that she was failing miserably). “Ah, it’s fine—I like, don’t get sick _ever_. Well, any more. And the others will be here tomorrow, anyway, so they could heal both of us, if they need to. …Besides, I want to be here.”

“That’s good…I like it when you’re here…‘nd I’m here…” Yasha was clearly drifting back to sleep, eyes closing before she ay the flustered mess her words had turned Beau into.

“M-Me, too,” she squeaked out, then cleared her throat. “Get some—get some sleep. Then pancakes for dinner and healing in the morning. And I’ll be here, the whole time.”

And she was.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when assigning prompts, I MAY have forgotten that Beau can’t get sick anymore, which stumped me for a bit when I stat down to finally write this piece…until a little voice in my mind went, “that means she’d be perfect for taking care of someone else while they’re sick,” and then, of course, there was no need at all to rack my brain to figure out who’d be down for the count…hope you enjoyed!


	9. Beau: Game On!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 9th—  
> Character: Beauregard Lionett
> 
> AU Prompt: Video Game AU

The team-up had begun as temporary.

When the seven players had banded together in one of the starting towns (full of quests designed for low-level characters and/or beginner players—which they would shortly get kicked out of…oops), all they’d agreed to was to play through one quest together that evening; there was no expectation of trying to coordinate their schedules to make it a regular ‘thing’. And yet, every Thursday night without fail found them working their way through (or away from at a rapid pace) progressively harder and more involved challenges.

Without realizing it, it’d become something vitally important to each of them: rendezvousing online with six strangers for a _game_ , of all things. And what an odd group they made—

p0pp0p! had crafted a monk character (some would say a ‘basic human’, but with _plenty_ of attitude) and was reveling in the cool movement options that afforded her while doggedly noting down and connecting various plot threads. (fury_of_the_small kept teasing her about that, but despite his goblin-turned-halfling’s problems with both alcohol and impulse control, she could tell that _his_ notes were almost as thorough as hers.)

dupl!c!ty may have initially come across as one of those start-shit-for-the-giggles sort of players that could be such a nightmare to work with, but both she and her tiefling cleric were proven to actually be absolute sweethearts (to the detriment of tex_blade’s insistence that _his_ half-orc warlock-turned-paladin wasn’t going to be interested in in-game romances.)

0rphanmaker had made no such comments about her aasimar barbarian and (after messaging p0pp0p! to ensure she’d be okay with it) began to engage in the dance of the disaster lesbians with the monk. (And none of them could resist teasing hobo_wiz@rd for his dubious achievement of managing to attract the interest of several in-game NPC’s, despite playing the rather-common combination of a human wizard.)

When itsteatime’s first character had been killed, the others were worried they might be about to lose a member of their fledgling party—only to have him turn up again with a firbolg cleric he’d hastily created and leveled up to match them by grinding on his own, ready to join in the adventures yet again.

The alliance had begun as temporary, yes—but it was so much more, now.

* * *

That night’s session had been intense—as soon as she’d jotted the last note in ‘Beau’s’ journal and logged off, the red-haired half-elf just had to jump out of her computer chair and pace the room, gesticulating wildly as she’ replayed the night’s events in her mind.

Realizing the hour, Keyleth _tried_ to reign herself in and go to bed but—who was she kidding, really?

_…Was it Thursday, yet?_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I had a couple scattered thoughts of how to take on the idea of a ‘video game au’, but the one I just couldn’t get out of my heads is that some ‘modern version’ of Vox Machina are playing their Mighty Nein counterparts in a MMORPG (and probably don’t know each other irl…oops.) So, a little silly, but I hope you found it fun!


	10. Jester: Start Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 10th—  
> Character: Jester Lavorre
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Prank  
> (Bonus Holiday Prompt: Decoration)

The little tiefling girl twirled in a circle before letting herself flop backwards onto the plush rug and blink up at her best friend who was crouched on the bed. “Oh, man—have you _seen_ the decorations downstairs? Mama’s gonna have the _best_ birthday party ever!”

The green-clad boy with the wild orange hair hummed noncommittally. “I’ve seen better. And I’m not sure how good a party it’ll be if _you_ can’t go and all those stuffy lords are coming. Sounds boring to me.”

“But it’s all so _elegant_ and _pretty_ and Mama gets to be a queen like, even more than normal. That’s pretty cool!”

“I’m not saying that it’s _bad_ ,” he rushed to clarify in the (upside down) face of Jester’s pouting expression. “I’m just saying it could be _better_.”

Jester was on her feet in an instant, then deflated just as quickly. “I don’t know…tonight’s supposed to be really special; I don’t want to spoil it: it’s Mama.”

“Well….” The boy frowned as he thought—he didn’t really _like_ limiting his schemes, but he didn’t feel like alienating such a brilliant little spark of chaos after all of the wonderful scrapes they’d already gotten into. Besides, he was finding just how _creative_ he could get within Jester’s restrictions (when she placed them), and the challenge was more fun than he’d expected! “What if we hide a…present…for your mother? Something to make her smile because her little sapphire was thinking of her?”

Jester brightened instantly, twirling and clapping her hands. “Oh, that’s _perfect_! Something that only she would know, like a secret message from me to her!”

Hm. Sounded a little saccharine for his usual tastes...but, if he viewed it as an investment in keeping little Miss Lavorre on his side, he could deal with sentiment, just this once. (Besides, it was…nice…to see her so happy; she really did love her mother.)

“Should I paint something on one of the banners, maybe? Ooh! Or put something at her dinner seat? What should it be? What should it be?”

“Good question…” Lately, Jester’s art had been dominated by flowers, various animals, and goofy faces—how best to put them to use…

“I know! I know!” She dashed to the little art desk by the window, gathering supplies as she rambled, excited. “The centerpieces are those _beautiful_ bouquets—right? So, what if I make a flower out of paper and add it to the flowers on her table, just where only she an see it. One blue rose in a bunch of red ones—her little sapphire!”

“Draw a face on it,” he suggested, peering over her shoulder as she worked. “That way, she’ll _know_ it’s form you.”

Jester nodded furiously, and soon the fake blossom bore one of the girl’s signature google-eyed grins. As she held it out for him to expect, he took it gingerly. Then, just a hint of his magic turned the paper to plant—through the now-real rose was still an improbable shade of blue, with darker blue markings of a silly little face on each petal (with an admittedly…phallic nose…he _had_ to put his own little touch on it, after all).

Jester gasped, eyes wide with wonder that brought a smug smile to his face—she had _no_ idea the sort of miracles he could work. “Now, shall we try out that Trickster’s Blessing on the way down?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I mean, who else but Jester would get the ‘prank’ prompt? Unfortunately, I’m not nearly so creative as Laura Bailey when it comes to thinking up good pranks, so I chose to set this back in a time where maybe Jester was just learning how to prank…which means I get to feature another one of the Mighty Nein as a kid, so I call that a win-win! (Hopefully you do, too!)


	11. Jester: Seek and Ye Shall Find

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 11th—  
> Character: Jester Lavorre
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: Found Family

As a little girl, Jester never could make up her mind as to whether or not she wanted brothers and sisters—on the one hand, it would be _pretty cool_ to have playmates, fellow pranksters, and to not be so lonely when the Traveler wasn’t there; but, on the other hand, that would mean _sharing_ her mother’s affections, and the precious (and increasingly rare) moments that the two had together.

Maybe it was better this way…

(But there were still nights she dreamed up fantasy siblings—brothers she could tease or talk with, sisters to share secrets and pretty things; a whole group of people around her who would never leave. Their numbers, ages, and appearances shifted often over the years, and she almost didn’t recognize them when she finally met them…)

…She’d called him ‘stinky’ without thinking, but what could have been an insult became instead an inside joke—the wonders of magic he created for her touched her heart, but she also treasured the little moments, like a child’s storybook shared by a roaring fire…

…She was loud and she was strange, but she was fun, getting into trouble together, solving mysteries together, and the advice she gave (sometimes) belied wisdom and experience she wasn’t always willing to speak of (though she did have a habit of interfering, sometimes…)

…He was steady and solid, a grounding presence for all of them, when they needed it, ready to take a moment, make a cup of tea, and offer his perspective, his attempts to help. It was rare when he was on the receiving end of the same, but she felt honored when she was the one who was able to help _him_ …

…She wasn’t into dresses or jewelry or fashion, but that was okay—it turns out hat there was a _lot_ more to ‘girl talk’ than all of that, especially if you shared a room with someone night after night. And formed the kind of bond that had each of you privately planning to _end_ (in your own ways) anyone who dared to upset the other…

…(He’d been funny, they’d teased each other and had a secret language that none of the others knew, and losing him was the first time she realized that the thing about having a family was that, sometimes, they left and they didn’t come back—not really—and really, she should’ve known that by now…)

…She was big and tough-looking and good at scaring dumb, mean people away, but she was _so_ kind and _so_ gentle and _so_ sad, and Jester has always wanted to make other people happy and see the difference that it made in their lives (And maybe _she_ knew a little bit about sadness that you always carried with you)…

…And _he_ was…well, not a brother, but this was still too new for her to say what it was—but that kiss _was_ really nice—she _did_ know that she cared about him and wanted him to be happy, to be safe, and he clearly wanted the same for her. For now, it was enough…

…

Two humans, a hafling, an aasimar, a half-orc, a firbolg, and a fellow tiefling—not what she had pictured as a child, not a perfect family by any means—

—but they were _hers_ and she _loved_ them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Less of a plot, this time, more of just some musings about one of my favorite parts of D&D in general and Critical Role in particular: the bond between the party members, and the players.


	12. Jester: Nott the Best Agents

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 12th—  
> Character: Jester Lavorre
> 
> AU Prompt: Spy/MI-style AU

They were a team of loud-mouths, misfits, and _strong_ personalities (to say the least)—the team that every bureaucrat in the agency loathed to deal with (if only because of all the paperwork that seemed to follow them like a whirlwind of migraines whenever they employed their… _unique_ approaches to various situations)—

—they just also happened to be the team with the best track record of pulling off the seemingly impossible. (Honestly, half of the time, even _they_ couldn’t tell you how they’d gotten out of their last mission alive, much less successful).

(…They were praying that this would be one of those times.)

* * *

Between Veth’s recon and Caleb’s hacking of the compound’s security system (especially the cameras), there shouldn’t be much capable of catching them off-guard—except, of course, for the one thing they already knew would be waiting for them.

“Jess, you going to be okay if we run into him?” Beau’s tone was blunt, her gaze assessing, but they’d worked together long enough: her concern was evident.

Jester grabbed the last bit of gear Caduceus had loaded them with for this mission and stowed it. “I-I think so. You?”

There was a long pause.

“Yeah—totally. It’s not even _Molly_ anymore, I mean. So, he’s not a traitor or anything, just some other person who just happens to be an enemy. Just some random enemy.”

It was her ‘lying voice’, but right before the final infiltration of an important (and exhausting) mission wasn’t the time to call her on it. Instead, Jester reached for her com device to check in on the rest of their team. “Fjord, Yasha, are you guys at the party yet?”

“Yes,” came Yasha’s voice, low but still clear. “Fjord’s talking with the target now. I’m holding back until he needs me.”

“How’s the food?” Beau asked, embracing the change of topic.

There was a pause as the team’s muscles considered her answer, then: “Caduceus’s is better. And Caleb’s. and Jester’s.”

The compliment brought a smile to her face, but Beau’s quiet ‘it’s go time’ made it drop right back off again.

_No more putting it off…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Not gonna lie, wish I had more for you guys with this one—I had all these cool plans (well, hopes) of writing a mission/confrontation with the Tomb Takers, but I just…can’t.   
> This week things have been really overwhelming and draining at work, and honestly, the notes and comments I’ve gotten here and on tumblr have been the few scattered bright spots of the week. The long and short of it is, I am drained, and this is all I have tonight.   
> Maybe, in some future, there will be an expansion of this, but for now, I can only offer you this and ask for your patience…


	13. Fjord: Large and Small

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 13th—  
> Character: Fjord Stone
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Romantic Gesture

Fjord wasn’t very good at grand romantic gestures—

—not because he thought of them as ‘too mushy’ or any kind of threat to his masculinity, but more because… Well, the half-orc hadn’t grown up with any sort of example of most kinds of love. The closest he’d ever come was being considered useful to someone who thought he had potential to cooperating with a crew and having a place in an established hierarchy.

It wasn’t until he lost all of that and was left alone once more that he began to know love of any kind at all.

It didn’t start that way, of course—it started as an alliance of convenience, of being _useful_ to each other. (And that was fine: that was _familiar_ , he knew how to work with and within that.)

But when he was helpless, taken away—useless—the others came for him all the same. At great risk (despite great loss), they came for the captives for no other reason than that they _cared._ (Had anyone else ever cared enough to come _back_ in a life filled with people who _left_?)

And much later, when stripped of al his power (all his use), still they did not abandon him, but built him back up instead, giving him what magic items they had in order to keep him safe, keep him with them.

Yes, he’d learned a lot about love from the Nein—from the little moments between the big moments, from this family of misfits and outcasts—

—just not a lot about big, romantic gestures.

So, Fjord stuck to what he _did_ know: these were the people he cared for, he trusted, and wanted to see happy ( _gods_ how he loved seeing the way she lit up when she was happy). So he kept an eye out for things that would bring joy, chances to earn a smile, to put at ease or keep safe, a thousand little gestures and moments and unspoken words: ceramic unicorns, silly hats—they were as much his way of saying ‘I love you’ as jumping for her, arms around her, telling her it was okay to let go, that he had her.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this was supposed to be about the prompt ‘Romantic Gesture’ and turned into an exploration of both platonic and romantic love for Fjord through his journeys with the Nein and how he’s grown…but I like it! More plot-based stuff to come, I promise.


	14. Fjord: Play the Part

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 14th—  
> Character: Fjord Stone
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: Fake Dating

There was no use asking Fjord how he’d gotten into this situation: he had _no_ idea.

Jester had been upset—that much he knew, that much, he was certain of. So naturally, he’d asked what was wrong, how he could help. (It was so rare for her to actually _show_ when something was bothering her, he hadn’t wanted to pass up an opportunity to remind her how ready ~~he~~ they all were to rally around her.)

Admittedly, he got a little fuzzy on the details of the involved story she’d launched into—she’d been off somewhere, setting up some kind of elaborate prank, only to get caught by…somebody…and the lie she’d told to explain why she was there had gotten out of hand, somehow? And she’d been invited to some fancy schmuck’s fancy party and apparently, she’d get into real trouble if she didn’t go?

(Honestly, so far, that was all par for the course when it came to the kinds of shenanigans that the Nein got themselves into.)

The problem _apparently_ was that, somewhere in the lie, Jester has made up a boyfriend and talked him up to the point that the host was _insisting_ that she bring ‘him’ to the party as well.

Fjord was pretty sure he’d asked why she couldn’t just beg off by saying that either she or the ‘boyfriend’ were sick, but Jester waved it off—apparently something about they already knew that she was a powerful cleric that could get rid of an illness with a single spell? So, that was out.

“Maybe some important business has suddenly come up and he’s terribly sorry but he just can’t make it?”

“Fjord!” Jester stamped a foot. “That’s the fakiest of fake excuses that there is! And if they think that I’m lying about _that_ , they might figure out the rest of it!”

He raised his hands, shaking his head. “I’m sorry, Jester; I’m doing my best to come up with a reason that your totally-real, totally-awesome boyfriend won’t be at this party.”

“I don’t need a _reason_ , I need a _boyfriend_! For the party, I mean. Just the party.”

Yeah, Fjord had _no_ idea how he’d gotten himself here.

* * *

Still, it wasn’t so bad at first.

Yes, there were a lot of fancy rich folk clustered here and there, or else drifting about the room, but if Fjord knew how to do one thing, it was to play a character in order to better fit in somewhere.

He decided to take his cue from Jester, since he as her ‘plus one’, and the two of them were _supposed_ to be a couple anyhow. She was still bubbly and bright, but some of her more whimsical tendencies had vanished beneath the gracious socialite persona she had adopted (reminding him that she _had_ grown up at least adjacent to this world and making him wonder just how much of her usual behavior was another mask she wore).

Honestly, it wasn’t hard at all to have eyes only of her (as surely any ‘amazing boyfriend’ would) with the way that she could command attention without being forceful, just from the sheer aura of her presence. He _did_ wonder if he could pass as impressive enough to help her sell her earlier bluffs, but given that all focus seemed to be (rightfully) drawn to her), he figured he could skate by.

Then, the dancing started.

_Shit._

He couldn’t say no to Jester (that’s what had landed him here, after all), but he did whisper, “I don’t know how—” as she led him onto the floor.

With a smile, a wink, and no words, she guided his hands to the correct positions, but took the lead herself. “Just keep shifting your weight from one foot to the other,” she whispered at last. “I’ll help you keep in time and turn.”

And she did (mostly—but his failures weren’t her fault) and she was strong enough to keep him from stumbling too much (and quick enough to make it look intentional when he did). When the song was over, he bowed, offered her his arm and led her out to a balcony off of the main ballroom (sadly not completely empty, but private enough, at least.)

“And here I thought _I_ was coming to support _you_ —you’ve been carrying me all evening.”

Jester looked down, and he could’ve sworn she looked—embarrassed? Or guilty even? “You’ve been great, Fjord, really. You didn’t have to come—”

“I’m glad I did,” he cut in, impulsively taking her hand. “It’s been…quite the evening. Fun, even.”

“Caduceus makes better food, but it is free!”

He smiled as she brightened again. “Think we could sneak some back for the others? Pocket hors d'oeuvres?”

A mischievous gleam entered her eyes at his suggestion, and he had a single moment to regret making it, giving her inspiration for yet another prank when that was how she’d gotten into this mess to begin with—

…

There was no use asking Fjord how he got into these situations—he had _no_ idea.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figures I gave myself the ‘fake dating’ trope as a prompt right before Fjorester took a hard right turn into cannon—well, that’s what I get for planning these out about a month ahead of time (at least in terms of characters/prompts/synopsis). Oh well, still had fun with it, and I hope you did, too! (Even though it’s less ‘fake dating’ more ‘Jester makes an indirect move’.)


	15. Fjord: Where the Heart Is

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 15th—  
> Character: Fjord Stone
> 
> AU Prompt: Space Travel AU  
> (Bonus Holiday Prompt: Cozy)

Their ship was _barely_ a ship.

It’d fallen apart and been pieced together so many times, with parts scrounged from every source imaginable (and several you wouldn’t _want_ to imagine) that it resembled a (miraculously) airborne scrap yard more than its original structure—whatever _that_ had been.

It did fly (when it wanted to, they sometimes joked), and was often the one thing standing between their small crew and inevitable death when whatever job that’d taken inevitably turned into danger, disaster, or both. (Perhaps _that_ was why it was constantly in need of all other repairs…)

Even its name, _The Mighty Nein_ , was nothing more than a joke that not one of them could fully explain where it had come from. She was an ugly, broken, mismatched excuse of a sip that seemed to still be running mostly to spite those that insulted or dismissed her—

—She was a lot like every member of her crew:

…

There was Fjord, the captain (as he was the only one of them with any sort of shipboard or spacefaring experience) who’d fled to the stars as soon as he was old enough because he’d never had an anchor to the ground; who’d thought he’d found a home, or at least a place to belong, only to lose it all; who’d pretended to so long to be who he thought he _needed_ to be, only to find that peace came when he began to nurture who he _was_ into who he _wanted_ to be.

…

Beau was first officer, a role she approached with great enthusiasm, even if she lacked experience. But she could hardly help herself: when all her life she’d only been criticized for where and when she’d failed, being placed in a position here she was (often) explicitly told that she was _trusted_ , and actually _praised_ when she did well—who _wouldn’t_ enjoy that?

…

(The two of them would split the helmsman’s duties between them after losing Mollymauk—the amnesiac may not have had (or, at least remembered) much in the way of formal instruction about space, but he had some of the sharpest pilot’s instincts of anyone Fjord had ever met. Something was definitely missing aboard ship with him gone, but with every launch, they could almost _feel_ his eagerness to ‘chase the light of every moon we see’—whatever that had meant.)

…

In the navigator’s seat was Caleb, whose inimitable grasp of interstellar triangulation meant that the man could almost never lose his sense of direction, even in the vastness of space. (A fact that he had always found quite ironic, given how neatly he’d lost nearly everything else—home, friends, family, future, position, direction, purpose, even _himself_.)

…

Jester was in charge of the ship’s communications, and if her messages weren’t always concise (or necessarily clear, at times), it was only out of her desire to reach out and welcome in—for someone who knew what it was to be lonely, the greatest gift she could offer was company, and Jester was nothing if not a generous giver.

…

Most of the recent repairs to _The Mighty Nein_ were the work of Veth, who also was in charge of maintaining the engines and—well, just about anything mechanical aboard the ship, to be honest. But despite the vital role that she played, Veth struggled to drown out the voices whispering that she wasn’t good enough, wasn’t where she was supposed to be. (When two families need you in different places, different ways, what are you supposed to do?)

…

Caduceus was new to the crew, but they’d learned the hard way just how necessary a ship’s doctor was, even for a crew as small as theirs. And it was good for him to be needed, after so long alone; good to see so much of the galaxy when his world had been so small, once. (Small, but precious, and he _would_ go back…someday…)

…

And finally, there was Yasha—big Yasha, scary Yasha, best-security/muscle-a-ship-could-ask-for Yasha; but also gentle Yasha, sweet Yasha, Yasha who loved flowers and music, who was afraid to hold her friends too close sometimes for fear of hurting them (or losing them and the familiar hurt that _that_ would bring), but who would never, _could_ never top wanting to take on any and everything that would even _think_ of hurting them.

…

So, yes, they were not the highly-trained, strictly-regimented officers of the Allied Space Corps (now some twenty years into existence and already flexing tis muscles in the distant corner of the galaxy); maybe their ship was more bottom-of-the-barrel than top-of-the-line—But so what? They weren’t apologizing to anyone for who or what they were, and the only people they’d change for were themselves and each other.

Their ship was _barely_ a ship—but it was _definitely_ home.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, when writing yesterday’s story, I had forgotten that the bonus prompt of ‘cozy’ was supposed to be included when I did my fic for the ‘fake dating’ prompt. No problem, I told myself, I’ll just do it with Fjord’s last story—the Space AU…then promptly almost forgot it again. So, we’re going to go with the ‘it’s more thematic, this isn’t a grand Starship Enterprise sort of vessel, but it’s homey and cozy’. 
> 
> Yeah, let’s go with that…
> 
> (Also, the reference to ‘Allied Space Corps’ is a nod to my Space AU one-shot in last year’s Critmas fic, as a lot of this came out of thinking about how different the Vox Machina Space AU experience would be from the Mighty Nein’s…)


	16. Caduceus: In Your Stead

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 16th—  
> Character: Caduceus Clay
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Fight/Battle

They couldn’t do it.

He’d known all along that they probably couldn’t—a rare feeling, as there wasn’t much that Caduceus Clay honestly thought the rest of the Nein to be incapable of (except, maybe, being honest about their struggles, and even in _that_ they were constantly surprising him…)—but from the first moments at the empty grave, he’d _known_ : if they weren’t able to bring their friend back, if they were forced to fight whatever he’d become, there was a strong chance that they wouldn’t be able to do it. To finish it—him. To put a body back in that grave, even if that was all that there was left to do.

They couldn’t do it.

Caduceus knew it wasn’t a question of lacking the power, skills, or group cohesion: he’d seen them grown and grown along with them, after all. But he’d seen how they’d reacted when Yasha was taken from them, turned against them. Even when there were honest arguments, actual questions about where her true loyalties fell—when they could no longer flee but _had_ to fight, there was no talk of killing her, only of saving her, freeing her. (Beau was impaled on the ground and seconds from death, but Caduceus knew that even _she_ would want him to prioritize Yasha over her. So, he did, because he believed along with the rest of them that _their Yasha_ was still in there.)

They couldn’t do it.

They _couldn’t_ give up on a friend, couldn’t deem someone a lost cause that they had once traveled with, fought alongside, especially not the one who’d taught them that lesson. Oh, they could recognize the threat of Lucien and the Tomb Takers, could accept that 'the Nonagon' had to be stopped in order to save the world, even that a fight was now their only remaining option. They could take out Cree, the halfling, the goliath—all of their enemies but one, for they focused on them so that they didn’t _have_ to fight him.

They couldn’t do it.

They’d knock him back or try to stun him or even polymorph him—anything to get him out of the fight without having to kill him, but he shrugged off or escaped their attempts time and again, twin blades carving ribbons of flesh and rivers of blood from any of them that got too close, who tried to reach him. He was weakening, yes, but not dead, and so: dangerous. Too dangerous. So, Caduceus summoned his beetles, called upon Melora’s magic in attacking spells he so rarely used, and knew better than to look at the others as he did what he had to be done and dealt the final blow.

They couldn’t do it—

—So, _he_ would.

…

_A purple form lay limp and crumpled in the snow, deaf to Jester’s sobs and heedless of Yasha’s tears, staring unseeing at a cloud-covered sky with eyes never closed…_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yeah, sorry about that ending. While I do love coming up with scenarios and AU’s where we get Molly back, at the same time, I don’t see how it could actually happen in game, and that's where this came from…  
> (And it really would be ironic if Caduceus did get the final blow, considering…)


	17. Caduceus: When All Else Fails

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 17th—  
> Character: Caduceus Clay
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: Hurt/Comfort

It’s easy to be calm when you have magic.

Of course, Caduceus had never attributed his steady nature to the power that he wielded—had never considered it, honestly. If anything, he would have said it was merely because there was no reason to worry about things that were beyond his control (there had always been those who took care of the ‘big stuff’ in his life—first, his parents, then his goddess), only focus on and _do_ what he could—

—he just hadn’t realized how much he’d come to rely on his magic for the ‘what he could do’ part.

The farther into Eiselcross that they pushed in their desperate attempt to thwart the Tomb Taker’s plans, the more and more magic went…wrong. It started with teleportation magic, and that they expected, been warned about. But then Jester’s Sending spell became garbled, incomprehensible to both parties (Veth and Caleb immediately tested Message, only to find the lower-level spell was likewise affected), then evocation spells began to either fizzle or (worse) backfire, then neither Caleb nor Jester were able to control what kinds of creatures they or their targets became when using Polymorph—little by little, the list of spells at the Nein’s disposal dwindled and diminished.

Then healing magic stopped working.

…

They were underground in yet another fragment of Aeor’s ruins, and the Tomb Takers were there as well—attacking from the shadows and then vanishing, moved to desperation by how _close_ their goal now seemed. Just when it seemed like things couldn’t get any worse (none of them had _s_ aid it aloud, but perhaps thinking it was enough to bring about disaster) a portion of the cavern collapsed, spitting the Nein (at least, he _hoped_ they were just separated by the rubble; that there weren’t crushed and broken bodies where moments before had been the rest of his friends). Oh, and his Light cantrip now refused to work. Great.

_Stay calm._

How long had it been since he’d had to tell himself _that_? But as he took a moment in the pitch dark (humans and halflings weren’t the only races without darkvision), he found it more difficult than expected to slow his racing heart. He listened intently—at least one person was moving around, sitting up, and he could at least hear pained and labored breathing from one other individual.

Two of his friends were here, two of his friends needed his help. _Focus on what you **can** do…_

“Caduceus?”

Fjord’s voice—Fjord was the one sitting up slowly. (In pain or just being cautious? He couldn’t tell yet. Who was down? Who was injured?) “Here. who else is here, Fjord?” He tried not to sound too worried—he was the calm one, after all—but he couldn’t _see_ and someone _needed_ him.

_And you **will** help them—just stay calm._

“It’s Veth. She’s unconscious; looks pretty hurt.” There was a pause, then a surprised, “I couldn’t heal her. It didn’t work.”

_Please let it be that he’s out of spell slots and forgot—_

“Caduceus, Lay on Hands isn’t working, either!”

If he was ever one to curse, it would have been that moment. “Where is she? I can’t see—”

The half-orc’s hand was on his arm then, gently steering him to the halfling’s crumpled form. (He could feel Fjord’s tension—not trembling, but on edge, holding together for now, but if Caduceus couldn’t stay calm, would Fjord be far behind?) He reached Veth, tried to feel for the worst injuries. “Is there a head wound? Does it look like she broke any bones?”

“There’s blood down the left side of her face, and that arm’s at a bad angle. Might have been the same rock, but at least it knocked her this way instead of trapping her under…”

Fjord’s voice trailed off as they both tried very hard _not_ to picture that outcome (or think about those still unaccounted for and what may have happened to them in the cave-in). Caduceus reached for his own healing magic, which he _knew_ he was not out of—

—Nothing.

Another surge of panic, this one harder to tamp down. Spare the Dying—a cantrip he’d almost forgotten in the long months since it had been relevant, useful— _did_ cast and take hold, but did nothing more than anchor the badly-injured rogue to life. It didn’t fix anything—he needed to _fix_ this.

Fjord’s hand was on his shoulder now, voice somehow as steady as Caduceus _didn’t_ feel at the moment. “How can I help Caduceus? What do you need?”

 _I **need** my magic!—_But did he? He’d learned to be a healer long before Melora had gifted him her power. But it had been so long since then, and here in the dark and ruin of a city swallowed by its own magic, with no idea if the others were alive or not—

“I need your eyes,” he said at last, still holding himself together, if barely. He passed his bag to the half-orc. “After I you get what I ask you for from there, I’m going to need your help setting her arm.”

Mentally reviewing what he would need to do to clean, bind, and set what he could helped to steady and ground him, and the feeling of Fjord beside him—inexperienced in the healing arts perhaps, but able to respond to disaster with an act-now-worry-later mentality that Caduceus needed in that moment—helped him to push through the panic and remain more in control enough to do what he could.

…

It’s easier to be calm when you have friends.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Figures that I would set out to write a hurt/comfort fic and focus on a character other than the injured party… (And go light on the ‘comfort part, as well…) Still, it was just one of those plot bunnies that refused to go away once it popped into my head, and given how tricky writing has been lately with my work schedule, I decided to go with what was coming rather than try to force something that wasn’t.


	18. Caduceus: Take a Sip, Take a Breath

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 18th—  
> Character: Caduceus Clay
> 
> AU Prompt: Café/Coffee Shop, etc. AU  
> (Bonus Holiday Prompt: Tradition)

Caduceus Clay had no pretentions of running a ‘successful business’ (whatever _that_ meant) but he _did_ take pride in creating a pleasant place.

(To be honest, between his simple lifestyle and not-inconsiderable savings—that he rarely spent—the tea shop didn’t need to do anything other than break even, which it generally managed). The firbolg had never claimed to have a great head for business, but he _did_ know people, and those that frequented the shop could always count on a friendly conversation with the owner, and that fact that he would remember their tastes and favorites.

…

For instance, Caleb, the human who ran a nearby used bookshop, leaned towards herbal blends if he came in during the middle of the day, but if he came in early or late, a strong black tea was preferred to get him through (or wake him up from) a late-night book binge.

Caleb’s friend Veth, who ran a small drugstore with her husband ( _really_ cute place: still had the old soda fountain in the back that was operational, so you could get a malt or milkshake after your flu shot—or just because you felt like it) had been an interesting one—and not quite the sort that you might expect to frequent a tea shop like his (she was a little high strung, to be honest), but Caduceus had had many an interesting conversation with her about what elements of each blend made it taste one way or another or have other effects (say, helping with congestion, a sore throat, or even a bad mood). Her scientific approach and his just-feel-it-out-and-see-what-happens approach met in interesting ways during their talks, but both felt they could learn quite a bit from the other.

Jester, the tiefling who baked for a local café (and ran painting classes there, some evenings) had a sweet tooth that couldn’t be denied, so he’d recommend the sweetest blends he had (and she’d still usually add sugar or honey). She’d tease him about offering baked goods in his shop, and he’d joke about hiring her away from the café—but the more time went on and the more their friendship grew, the more that both wondered if it really had to be a joke, after all.

Once, Jester had dragged along Fjord, who’d seemed a little out of his depth, but then he’d begun coming in on his own, always willing to try something new and ready for a deep conversation with Caduceus. (Along the way, he’d talked the half-orc into leaving his previous job under a horrible boss, and Fjord had found himself taking Caduceus’ advice and going to ask a family friend of the Clay’s what sort of work she might have for him.)

Beauregard was another person that didn’t quite fit the stereotype of a regular at an establishment like his—she was blunt, brash, and sometimes aggressive. But between her two jobs (librarian and martial arts instructor), she’d often grab a corner table and strong blend, and spread out some journals, note papers, and her latest research project. It was amazing to watch her work, really.

Other times, Beau wouldn’t come in alone, but with Yasha, the aasimar who ran the flower shop just next door. Caduceus was glad to see that the two women were finding happiness with each other after life had clearly not been kind to either of them, and was touched that his little shop was one of their go-to special places.

(Sometimes on not-date says, Yasha would come in with her friend, Mollymauk, and other times the colorful tiefling would come in on his own. Caduceus wasn’t actually sure what Molly did for a living, as he gave a different answer every time he was asked, but he did appreciate that his most exuberant customer always wanted to try something new and would try anything at least once—the two of them had fun coming up with and testing some of the most bizarre combinations, just to see what they would taste like.)

…

No, the shop didn’t really do much more than keep afloat—if just barely—but it didn’t have to: it was about so much more than just the money, after all…

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Playing a little fast-and-loose with the bonus holiday prompt again, I know—but it’s there if you squint (having a ‘usual’ is kinda like having a tradition, right?). But yeah, I mostly just wanted some feel-good fuzzies in this one—and no, I couldn’t figure out what I wanted to do for Fjord, so I ended up going a little vague…Fill in your own headcannons, I guess?


	19. Yasha: Darkened Dreams

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 19th—  
> Character: Yasha Nydoorin
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Nightmares

When she was with the carnival, Yasha’s nightmares (when she had them) were dark and foggy—more emotion and impression of events than clearly defined terrors. Things moved around her—or moved her rapidly along—but however she tried, she could never bring them into focus, and formless nameless horror and dread (and guilt?) weighed upon her chest, making it nigh-impossible to breathe.

She would awaken gasping and choking, and Mollymauk would be at her side, chattering away about some nonsense or other as if he’d not just been woken up from his own dreams, joking until he made her laugh, just _being_ with her until she could face the idea of sleep again.

…

When she rejoined the Nein after losing Molly, Yasha’s nightmares (that came far more often, now) were clearer, filled with images of her friends’ broken corpses—Molly’s and Zuala’s, too—at her feet as she arrived too late to save them. Sometimes there were chains biting into her wrists, holding her back from running to one or another bleeding form choking out their final breaths, her sobs unheeded by the uncaring dreamscape.

She’d awaken crying but silent, and would count each head in the cluster beneath the dome again and again, assuring herself that they were the, alive (all but the one that she _had_ been too late to save). She’d watch them, imprinting their faces in her memory until her racing heart slowed and her tears dried—but it was always hard to go back to sleep, if she managed at all.

…

Now that she is herself again, Yasha’s nightmares (once nightly, now lessened, though not entirely gone) are memories of uncontrollable slaughter, of being a prisoner in her own body as it carved a deadly path for Obann’s twisted dreams, all overlaid with concocted images of butchering the Nein as they reached out for her, repaying their kindness and trust with pain, blood, and death even as they tried to save her. (Worst of all were the images that were not fantasies but memories: Beau trapped beneath her, Skin Gorger plunged into the monk’s stomach as the impaled woman clung to life by a fraying thread—only, in these dreams, the thread does snap and though Yasha wants to scream, her body is silent, still not her own.)

She awakes in the silence and the dark—only it is not dark, for Caleb has a put a fireplace in each of their rooms, and the cat attendants have a slight glow of their own to them— _welcome home,_ the wizard had said; _this is a place for you,_ he had meant, _a place you belong_. _I made this for you,_ each individualized room said without words, _for we are family and you belong here—I want you here._ she doesn’t always manage to fall back asleep, but as she sits and plucks at the bone harp, she is beginning to rediscover a peace she hasn’t felt in so long.

(Though, it _still_ might be better if, perhaps, she wasn’t waking up alone…maybe...)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I had maybe two seconds where I was asking myself how I wanted to handle this prompt for Yasha…after which point this story practically wrote itself. I wasn’t expecting Yasha to be this easy to write for, but I’m not complaining! (And no, not ALL of her chapters will be this depressing, I promise…)


	20. Yasha: We All Could Use a Little Luck

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 20th—  
> Character: Yasha Nydoorin
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: Angst/Comfort(?)

Yasha knew better than to think that the rest of the Nein didn’t care about getting Molly back—why else had they chased him over the frozen landscape and made a point of talking first when they _did_ catch up? (First—all they had _done_ was talk: they hadn’t made a single move to attack or confront, really.)

She’d seen the desperate expression on Jester’s face every time she’d scried on Lucien as the tiefling cleric searched for any sign that their friend was still in there, somewhere; she’d seen how tense and uncomfortable Beau had gotten as the confrontation grew closer and closer; she’d heard what the others had said (and not said) when ~~Mol~~ Lucien was finally in front of them.

But Yasha knew that at least most of the others had taken it to heart when he’d told them that Molly was gone, that the man they’d known was no more. She’d seen the grief on their faces, the slump to their shoulders, and knew that they’d given up their last hope and begun to move on again, even as they at least felt some kind of closure.

…

But she had none.

Because when Yasha had heard Lucien tell them that Mollymauk had been a fragment of himself left behind, she didn’t hear that her dear friend was forever gone, but that he was standing right there with no clue who she was. Because, if Molly _was_ a part of Lucien, that meant that Lucien _was_ Molly, if Molly had known and cared about his past, and Lucien _could be_ Molly, if only he didn’t give a shit about ancient magics, flying cities, and creepy cults.

Molly wasn’t _gone_ , but he _was_ out of reach.

She’d given him the clover he’d once given her in a desperate hope that it would bring back some memory, bring back a friend. He’d taken it, actually taken it, and not tossed it aside, and Yasha almost hated the hope she felt in that moment, because her friend was _still_ looking at her with pity in a stranger’s gaze…

…

Yasha knew better than to think the others didn’t care—they just didn’t see…

* * *

The clover had been a surprise—not the first or the last from that adorable strange mercenary group, but certainly the one that lingered the most and left the most… _unexpected_ impact. It was—cute, honestly, and more than a little sad, how desperate the large woman had seemed, yet how gently she’d spoken; but still—

—Why did a part of him treasure quite a little thing so very much?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, a little light on the ‘comfort’ part of the prompt, once again…So I had to at least throw the little bit of hope on there at the end. I don’t know whether or not Molly can come back (I’m leaning towards ‘not’ if only not to get my hopes up), but Yasha’s made her own stance pretty clear, as well, and I have had an interesting time thinking about the implications of Lucien’s assertions regarding our beloved circus man…


	21. Yasha: There Can Be Miracles

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 21st—  
> Character: Yasha Nydoorin
> 
> AU Prompt: College/University AU  
> (Bonus Holiday Prompt: Wonder)

She still couldn’t believe it, sometimes…

Even after she and Mollymauk were taken in by the Clay family—years ago, now—Yasha had struggled to believe that here was a place for her in the wider world beyond their strange-but-happy home, much less that she was capable of accomplishing much of anything at all. (Loving reassurances could only go so far in undoing years of rejection and neglect.)

Still, when Molly and Caduceus began looking at some of the same colleges, she wasn’t about to let her two favorite brothers leave her behind.

And thus the three of them (somehow) ended up at the same school within a year or two of each other: Caduceus studying Botany (of course), Mollymauk throwing himself into a Performing Arts degree (what else), and Yasha surprising herself (and the administration, it sometimes seemed) if not her family, with a double-major in Sports Medicine and Music.

She could hardly believe that she’d made it in, that she was managing the course load and the extra practice requirements so well and—perhaps the greatest surprise of all—she had a social circle that included more people than just her two brothers!

Veth and Caleb were the only other science majors in the group (at first, at least), the halfling woman having come back to school after receiving a special scholarship in order to study chemistry, and the human being generally known as one of the prodigies of the physics department—however much he hated the attention.

Jester, a tiefling like Mollymauk, was the other double-major in the group, pursuing both a Communications degree _and_ a Visual Arts degree (admittedly, _her_ chosen fields paired at least a little better together than the aasimar’s seemed to…)

Fjord had been a Government/Pre-Law student when they first met him, but it was increasingly clear that the half-orc wasn’t happy in the department—especially as his assigned advisor was one of the more cutthroat and power-hungry professors: an exception to the general rule perhaps, but a horrible influence and more than capable of souring one’s perspective on the field, nevertheless. It was Caduceus of all people who helped Fjord work up the courage to change majors, and he soon joined the firbolg in the Environmental Studies department, though his focus was on Marine Biology, and it was immediately clear how much happier he was post-change.

Then there was Beau—it actually took them a while to realize that the human’s degree was Physical Therapy, as she made it a point to be constantly informed on the topics that caught her interest (so they’d been convinced she was a Criminal Justice major at one point, until she made it clear just _how_ uninterested she was in that career path—‘can’t fix that corruption from within.’)

It seemed too good to be true, to be one of a group of eight eclectic but devoted friends, and the first semester or so after they began renting an off-campus house together felt almost too perfect to be something that was actually happening to her.

(She’d been so happy for Molly and Caleb when the two had _finally_ started going out—and Fjord and Jester, when they did, too. For so many of them, life has been rough, and she was so incredibly grateful to see that this ‘second family’ of hers was grabbing hold of some happiness for themselves: they deserved it. But when she and Beau began saying and doing things that were harder and harder to pass off as tease/joke-flirting? When they both began to realize that the other _actually_ wanted them? When Beau _finally_ asked her out?

…

Well, she still couldn’t believe it, sometimes…)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, this is (loosely based off of) ideas I had fleshed out a bit in Chapter 17 of my fic collection, 2020 CR Fics, ‘Little Things’. It was the same basic concept—The Mighty Nein (including both caduceus AND Molly) are University students all renting a house together. I’d referenced the idea of the Clays having adopted Molly and Yasha, making that trio siblings, but didn’t flesh it out/explain it that much. I’ve kept most of the majors the same, but I have switched up some of the ships, since that was written before Caduceus was confirmed Aro/Ace.   
> Not too much else to say, to be honest; hopefully you all thought it was fun!


	22. Mollymauk: Guests of Honor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 22nd—  
> Character: Mollymauk Tealeaf
> 
> Scenario Prompt: Party/Formal Event  
> (Bonus Holiday Prompt: Joy)

The Kryn Dynasty really had pulled out all of the stops for the multi-day celebration. (If you asked, the official reasoning was that the Mighty Nein were already Heroes of the Dynasty, and now their latest adventures in the Eiselcross—thwarting the Astral city—had left them heroes of the world, and they ought to be celebrated accordingly; in reality, the fact that the Dwendalian Empire had already thrown their own lavish party for the Nein had left the bright Queen’s court scrambling not to be outdone. Peace was one matter, pride was another altogether…)

As for the guests of honor themselves, the Nein were—well, tired, honestly. The race to stop the Tomb Takers from dooming the world, and the fight that they weren’t able to avoid in the end, had left them drained, and formal events designed to show off ‘look at these powerful people that we can call on’ really weren’t helping them rest or recharge at all. Still, they had goals and plans (even if they weren’t _exactly_ at the point where they could clearly verbalize what they were) that would be greatly aided by some political clout in both nations, so they came and they smiled and they dealt with it, waiting for the moment that they could make their exit without being rude and reconvene in the Xorhouse…or maybe the Tower, even…

Mollymauk was more than a little tired himself—the battle to re-emerge from Lucien had taken too much out of him to follow them immediately, to let his friends know that he was back, he was alive, he was _himself_ again; and he wasn’t able to travel anywhere _near_ as quickly as they apparently could, now. But he’d made it at last, they were _right there_ : he could see them, though they hadn’t noticed him yet (so Beau and that Caduceus fellow had to be _really_ exhausted), and they must’ve thought that no one could see them (or simply not cared) because they weren’t even trying to pretend to smile.

They looked so worn and weary since he’d seen them last (with his own eyes at least—the memory of his time as Lucien was somewhat foggy, even as he wished it was gone altogether), but older and stronger and wiser, too. He was—proud, thinking of where and how they’d started, but sad, too, that he’d missed all that had brought them to this point—and guilty that at least some of the pain and exhaustion evident on their faces was (indirectly) _his_ fault: if he’d managed to stay alive in the ambush, they’d never have had to cross paths Lucien…

No—there was no point in imagining ‘could have been’s: all that mattered was the here and now: they were _here_ , and _now_ he was, too. Letting that thought lift his spirits, he strode into their view with a smile and a wink:

“Well, I don’t think I’ve ever seen a group of people more in need of a good time in my life!”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, I know some of my recent stories have been somewhat rough on Molly fans, so I decided to make it up to you all with my take on a Molly-finds-the-Nein-again piece. I’d wanted to write a little bit more of the reunion, honestly, but once I looped back to his first line from the stream, I knew I wasn’t going to find a better end point, so just imagine the biggest group hug you can picture, and I’d say that’s about the direction I was going to take this, anyway.


	23. Mollymauk: Tooth and Nail

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 23rd—  
> Character: Mollymauk Tealeaf
> 
> ‘Genre’ Prompt: Whump

_Lucien sneered at the bleeding form in front of him—did this-this **scrap** of a personality really think that it had any chance of fighting for control? This was **his** mind as much as it was **his** body, and this merest **sliver** had dared to challenge him? (It must’ve had a thing for starting losing battles, or it never would have been in this position—perhaps he ought to thank it for giving him his chance to return through its stupidity…)_

_Mollymauk was on one knee, struggling to stand as that **fucker** Lucien strode forward, sneer in pace, blades spinning lazily. How long had they been fighting like this and why did that **asshole** barely have a scratch on him? He knew he landed at least_ _some_ _hits (curse this stupid mind/dream scape battlefield—give him the real world where people stayed hurt when you hit them…where his friends were, to heal him when he was injured…)_

_Lucien was only a few steps away now, and he needed to **move** or he was **dead** but the darkness surrounding the two tieflings pushed against him, wrapping around him, trying to hold him in place. The only thing that could save him could just as easily kill him (here he was once again…). But with little choice, Mollymauk reached for the powers he still did not fully understand, focusing on Lucien and praying that it was the other’s vision that would darken, not his own._

*****

How long had he been asleep?

Was asleep even the right word? He’d been dead—a fact he was oddly certain of and yet somehow not really bothered by—but then he hadn’t been, or, at least, his _body_ had regained life, but awareness was only just returning to him. He couldn’t see, could only hear as if from a great distance underwater, and all he could feel was choking, constricting _pressure_ binding him in place, _swallowing_ him—or trying to.

_Do not resist. Rejoin the whole. Surrender._

**_Fuck that!_ **

*****

_Lucien’s sword lashed out, slashing across the other’s face and opening yet another bleeding wound. Before the-the figment could recover, he spun, landing a solid kick to its chest and throwing several feet away—if the measure of distance meant anything at all in this battlefield of mental reality._

_“Determination is adorable, but this is simply pathetic,” he sneered as it stumbled back onto its feet, choking for breath. “You can’t defeat a whole if you’re **part of it**.”_

_Molly’s only answer was so spit a mouthful of blood in Lucien’s general direction, hand tightening around the grip of his carnival-glass sword—conjured from memory but real enough, here. He saw Lucien’s eyes narrow, tried to ready himself for the charge that was coming—but the other tiefling was too fast. He tried to parry the first blow, only for his glass blade to snap in half, the second strike plunging into his left knee._

_Molly couldn’t help the cry of pain that tore from his throat, and Lucien’s response was to **twist** the blade as he forced it in deeper to the joint, then **wrench** it free with a violent jerk. The leg buckled, sending Molly to one knee, but instead of pressing his advantage, Lucien backed off a bit and began to pace around the fallen form. “I have no need of you. It’ll be a relief to have you gone. Then I can go back and finish what **they** started—your precious Mighty Nein will join you in oblivion soon enough.”_

_Molly growled, tried to stand, but fell back to the one knee, broken sword still grasped uselessly in one hand._

_Lucien sneered at the bleeding form in front of him…_

*****

The hold on him (for lack of a better word for it) was relentless, but little by little, there’d been flashes—‘we thought you were our friend’—a face so achingly familiar—a voice he knew—a clover—and he’d gain leverage, push a little more away from the void that had swallowed him once and clearly wanted to do so yet again.

_My—friends. My friends! Let go of me. Let go of me! I AM MOLLYMAUK!_

*****

_Molly struck out—caught a glancing blow to Lucien’s shoulder—but before he could follow up, the other man was on him again with a whirl of steel and spray of crimson as both swords cut into his chest **again** and **again**._

_With a pained grunt, Molly spun to one side, disengaging and putting a little distance between them. Lucien let him, watching him with no hint of anger or amusement, only disdain._

_If he was going to **toy** with him, the least he could do was admit that he was enjoying it like the cruel bastard that he was._

_“What’s the point of this? You were finally back where you belonged and now you fight for a fragmentary existence that never should have been. Accept your place.”_

_“Accept yours—twice-dead,” Molly hissed in infernal, taking savage pleasure as Lucien fell back a pace: it seemed he still had some of his powers after all…_

_But he had barely a moment to celebrate as Lucien clenched his fist again. Molly tried to brace as **agony** washed through him again, the blazing, biting **pain** blinding and immobilizing him for one heartbeat, two—before the threw it off once more, gasping and choking raggedly._

_He glanced up as his vision cleared to see that Lucien had closed the distance again, weapons raised. There was no time to bring his guard back up—_

_Lucien’s sword lashed out, slashing across the other’s face…_

*****

It all gave way at once and Molly crashed to his knees—it was still blackness all around, there was still a faint _pull_ at his limbs, but he could move, he could stand—

He could see himself standing right in front of him.

No, _not_ himself: the other guy— _Lucien._

There was a flash of hatred and anger in Lucien’s eyes as the two tieflings faced each other in the inky blackness of an unreal reality. “You.”

“Me.” Molly tried for a smile and a wink, but he couldn’t help noticing how his voice was cracked and hoarse from disuse. “Not you.”

Lucien’s glare twisted into a smile. “ _That’s_ what threw me off? Some half-dead scrap clawing at the back of my head and getting me killed?”

Molly shrugged, filing the information away for later use. “Hm. Happens to us a lot now, doesn’t it? Anyhow, I guess it’s my turn for the body—”

Lucien clenched his fist, and at once, _every_ thing hurt—a thousand needles were under his skin, some digging their way deeper, some tearing towards the surface, _all_ of them white-hot and _searing_ —Molly _screamed_ before he could stop himself, but threw his will against the force almost instinctively and it broke, leaving him gasping and trembling on his knees, but pain free…for the moment…

Lucien heaved a sigh. “Of course it wouldn’t go down the easy way. I’ll put you down first, then go back and finish the job.” There were swords in his had now where here hadn’t been before, metal as black as the darkness around them, and e slashed out, opening gashes down Molly’s back before he other tiefling rolled away and stumbled to his feet.

“Well, fuck you too,” he muttered, desperately aware that he was unarmed—only for one of his carnival glass swords to appear in his hand, as if willed into existence. What the fu—

Lucien was on him again, and Mollymauk backpedaled, bringing his sword up to parry once, twice (his missed one and took a gash to his right side for his efforts), then lunged forward in his own attack.

Molly struck out—caught a glancing blow to Lucien’s shoulder—

*****

_Mollymauk reached for the powers he still did not fully understand, focusing on Lucien and praying that it was the other’s vision that would darken, not his own._

_Moonweaver be praised—or whichever deity had heard and helped him, he wasn’t picky right now—but Lucien stumbled at the last moment, his strike going wide._

_Ruined knee screaming in protest, Molly surged upward with the last of his strength, stabbing his broken sword into Lucien’s chest as the would-be kill blow missed. Vision returned to the red eyes as life drained from them, and they stared in disbelief at the bloody mess that was Mollymauk._

_“Fuck you,” Molly spat at the dying remnant of the man he’d ~~once~~ twice been as the space around them began to melt and blur from featureless dark to freezing white. “ **Stay** dead this time.”_

**_I have some friends to find…_ **

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Tried to play with timelines a bit for this one—hopefully it wasn’t to confusing! (It was honestly only supposed to be the first scene out of order to then be continued at the end, but that wasn’t how it turned out when I finally sat down to write it…well, challenges like this are all about trying stuff as a writer that I’ve never done before!)
> 
> So, I actually consider this story to be the prequel/lead-in to yesterdays: that this is the ‘fight to emerge from Lucien’ that was referenced in that fic. (Actually, I like to think of Chapter 16, where Caduceus lands the final blow on Lucien to also be ‘cannon’ in this trio of fics: Cad kills Lucien, which frees up Molly just enough to fight Lucien for control, Molly wins, then chases after the Nein to reunite in the Kryn’s celebration in Rosanna.)
> 
> (Funnily enough, much like in last year’s Critmas fic, I think the piece for the ‘Whump’ prompt was the longest of the lot…says something about me as a writer, I guess.)


	24. Mollymauk: Come One, Come All

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 24th—  
> Character: Mollymauk Tealeaf
> 
> AU Prompt: Monster AU

_Here’s to the ones that are different…_

…To the woman afraid of her own hidden side, warped and wrenched by full moon’s light into a form she refuses to think of as her own, her self; who fears and loathes the beast within though those around her—the pack she fights for with a mother’s ferocity—call both parts of her theirs…

…To the man who thinks he is not a man because he was built, built to burn and break those his makers set him on—an attack dog manufactured in a humanoid form, who found a heart by breaking it, costing him his mind for a time; who has defied what he was made to be, perhaps the most human thing possible to do…

…To the man born of water and sea spray, willing to walk the land for the friends and family he never thought that he’d have, but who can never fully turn his back on the ocean depths, for it is as much his home as these people are…

…To the bright and lively young woman constantly exuding the magic and mischief of her home realm; tricks and treats, spells and silliness alike in her arsenal as she seeks to bring chaos and laughter alike to the world as she explores it—her way of repaying it for all she is seeing and experiencing for the first time…

_Cheers to the ones that are different…_

…To the woman whose blood flows with dragonfire, snapping, snarling, and striking at any who get too close, desperate to protect the hoard that she has—those who have made it past her guard and become themselves the treasures that she will defend until the last drop of dragon’s blood is drained from her…

…To the woman who has lived and loved and lost but lingers a spirit of pain and regret wondering if that is all the afterlife she’ll ever be fit for; who has been here before, but will not shrink away from her second chance, such as it is…

…To the man who drinks deep of the earth and stretches for the sky—as slow-moving as the tree that is his home and himself both, perhaps, but as strong, as well—wandering beyond the grove of his roots in order to save it, and finding so much more along the way than simply the answer he has sought…

…To the man born of blood and dark magics, whose ever power and ability resonates with threat and malice, but who will have none of that, choosing instead to both be what death has made him, but also to bring light, laughter, and _life_ nevertheless—leaving each place better than he found it, ‘monster’ though the world deems him and his friends…

…

_Here’s to the ones who are different—_

_—may we all find the place we belong._

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, the breakdown of who is what is as follows (I tried not to repeat more than half of the ones from last year's piece, so I got a little creative/stretchy with some of them): Veth—werewolf; Caleb—Construct; Fjord—Water Spirit/Naiad; Jester—Fey Spirit/Sprite; Beau—Dragonkin; Yasha—Ghost; Caduceus—Dryad; Mollymauk—Vampire.  
> Well, here we are, nearly at the end—just one last special one to go tomorrow!


	25. Chapter 25

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> December 25th—  
> Characters: All
> 
> Crossover Prompt: Pokemon Crossover

It’d certainly been a turbulent Pokemon Challenge season, leaving many convinced the Wildemount Pokemon League Championship would have to be called off (reigniting the debate about whether the Menagerie, Dwendalian, and Xhorhas regions ought to separate out with their own regional leagues, given the near-constant tension and strife between them), but peace had been secured (for the moment) and the biggest tournament of the year was about to commence.

Seven entrants in particular were creating quite a stir during the tournament lead-up and opening ceremonies—as they had since emerging from seemingly nowhere early in the season. To some, they were nuisances, to others, heroes, still others saw them as loose cannons, but all could agree that they were powerful trainers with loaded teams. (Seriously, _how_ did they get into the kind of shenanigans that ended with each of them having a Legendary Pokemon anchoring their teams, along with the now-standard Mega-Evolving or Gigantimaxing Pokemon?)

They’d traveled as a team; they’d trained as a team; they’d triumphed as a team—perhaps the only thing giving anyone else a chance in the tournament was that hey could not _compete_ as a team, but would have to stand on their own. (But then again, each on their own was a force to be reckoned with for sure…)

...

There was Veth, who seemed to sing rapidly between ‘Team Mom’ and ‘Trouble-Maker-In Chief’, and her eclectic team: Buttons, her Klefki was her oldest partner; Whiskey, her Spinda was unpredictable—useful in a pinch, but he caused nearly as much trouble as he prevented; her Thievul, Rogue, made up for a lack of brute power with her blinding speed; River, the Gigantimaxing Lapras, seemed to make even her own trainer wary; likewise, Nott, the Sableye, had taken a long time for Veth to come to terms with, to work with; and the Legendary Zapdos, Motherhood, dared _anyone_ to even think of messing with her family—blood or no.

Caleb had been traveling with Veth long before they’d met up with the other five of the Nein, and his Delphox, Wizard, had been with him even longer, as had his Mega-Evolving Blaziken, Fireball. Frumpkin, the Meowstic, had been the next, beloved, addition to the team, followed a little later by the Gigalith, Transmuter’s Stone. As a battler, Caleb was well-known for his creative tactics when employing Polymorph, his Ditto, but speculation abounded regarding how he’d come to have Atonement, the Legendary Shaymin, on his team. (Truthfully, even he could not say—though he’d sought it for so long.)

There was some debate and discussion of whether Beau was officially affiliated with the Ioun Academy for Trainers or not—at first, she’d seemed to be a runaway student, but now she appeared to occasionally be running missions for them as a kind of faculty member—but there was _no_ denying that she was a skilled battler and a keen strategist. Her first partner had been a Snivy (now Serperior), the iconic Pokemon of her family, named Lionett. They two had struggled to work together at first (apparently), but they had come to develop a style that was uniquely theirs, unconnected to her family, and in that, partner and trainer had found their bond. Likewise, Monk, her Mienshao, and Cobalt Soul, her Mega-Evolving Lucario, had taken some getting used to as she navigated her relationship with the Academy. All she would say about her acquisition of Tarot the Xatu was that he was ‘a gift from a friend’; while her back-and-forth sniping with her Noctowl, Professor Thaddeus _some_ how (no one watching from the outside could quite say how) led to a decent win record for them. And guarding them all as Beau guarded her friends’ happiness and well-being was Sentinel, the legendary Zamazenta.

The bubbly trainer from Nicodranas, Jester, had quite the varied team that leant itself to a _very_ unorthodox battle style. Trickery, her Mega-Evolving Banette, seemed quite the dark and spooky partner for someone so fond of pink and pastries, while Ruby, the Ninetails, had all the elegance and grandeur of her namesake. The Inteleon, Gentleman, was a recent addition, but kept a narrowed eye on anyone that got too close to his precious trainer; while many marveled that such a battered- and haggard-looking Zangoose as Sprinkle was still alive, much less still following his trainer’s coaching. While many dismissed Smeargle as a ‘gimmicky’ Pokemon, Jester proved time and again that her Paints could be useful if only one was clever…as clever, say, as the Legendary Hoopah, her beloved Traveler….

There was one other trainer from the Menagerie Region: Fjord, originally from Port Damali, whose own diverse team marked quite the convolute path he’d taken to get to where he stood now. He’d started after receiving Warlock, his Malamar from unknown sources—and it was that mystery that’d set him on this journey. Along the search for answers, he’d found Crystal, the strange Carbink, and Uk’otoa, the menacing Spiritomb, in short order. But whatever he’d learned seemed not so satisfy what he’d truly been looking for and, after adding his disciplined Kingdra, Captain, he seemed to change track altogether with his Mega-Evolving Kangaskhan, Paladin, and the Legendary Zacian, Star Razor. But whatever had prompted the changes, there was no denying the comfort and confidence he now battled with.

Caduceus originally hailed from outside of the three regions, and had joined the others after an unexpected confrontation with an Evil team had turned deadly, early on. He’d come to their aid, then come along, with his gentle Meganium, Cleric, Graveyard, his deceptively-spooky Trevenant, and his Polteageist with the on-the-nose-name of ‘Tea’ (apparently it was an old family joke?). Speaking of the rest of his family, he had been using this journey, at least in part, as a means of finding what had become of them, finding Decompose, his Shiinotic, and Gorgon, the Gigantimaxing Copperajah, and finally his parents, aunt, and siblings—thankfully alive and (now) safe. All the while, guiding, guarding, and anchoring his team was the Legendary Lugia he called Melora with warmth and reverence.

Yasha, the one member of the group from the Xhorhas Region, (if the wilder, southernmost part of it), was an undeniably intimidating sight—as were her first two partners: Barbarian, her Mega-Evolving Garachomp, and Orhpanmaker, her foul-tempered Hydreigon. But there was a softer, gentle side to the woman as well, clearly demonstrated in her tender care for the Comfey she called Zuala with an odd, sad smile. Bone Harp, her music-loving Alolan Marowak perhaps best embodied the duality of his trainer, even as Angel Wings, the Togekiss, best exemplified the hope and the light that she strove for, despite her painful past. But less any opponent be tempted to forget the sheer power at her command, the team was anchored by Strom Lord, the Legendary Zekrom.

…

Yes, the Mighty Nein (as they were called for reasons no one in the watching crowd fully understood) were certainly the center of attention as the opening ceremony of the tournament unfolded—stories of their convoluted and dangerous journey to this point had spread on ahead of them, even ridiculous rumors that they’d single-handedly stopped the latest war and brought peace to the regions; and many were curious to see what they could muster as solo battlers, rather than the unit that they had operate as for so many of their adventures. Then, the final entrant of the tournament was introduced and his team revealed, and a ripple went though the stadium crowd and home audience alike—could this contender be the one who could upset what had looked to be a sure sweep for the Nein?

He was introduced simply as ‘Matt’, but there was nothing simple about his team: Pumat the Oranguru was a formidable tank; Kiri the Chatot hid some surprising tricks while her gimmick distracted attention; his Gigantimaxing Drednaw, Orly, was fearsome in battle despite a generally friendly disposition; crowd-favorite Essek, the Weavile, was no above using shady tactics where necessary, while Yussa, his Kommo-o tended to rely more on overwhelming power. But a pall hung over the arena as _his_ own Legendary was revealed—what did it mean that he had a Guzzlord, and why was it called ‘The Eyes of Nine’?

…

As the ceremony drew to a close, one man turned away form the large screen outside of the stadium—he’d seen as much as he needed to, what he’d come to see. He looked to his own team of three—found along a path of a life anything but simple: Bloodhunter, the Grimmsnarl whose terrifying appearance belied a selfless heart; the colorful and fun-loving Oricorio, Carnival; and the solemn Chandelure he called Death while still smiling. Mollymauk nodded to the three of them with a friendly wink as they made their way from the stadium.

“Don’t they all look impressive now? Hardly recognize ‘em. Let’s put old Luci down once and for all and heave a heartfelt reunion—Whatdya say?”

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> So, during last year’s CRInktober, one prompt was to do a crossover piece, and since I’d already been thinking about translating Vox Machina’s journey’s into Pokemon teams, I went with that (See Chapter 17 of CRInktober 2019 Ficlet Compilation for that one). I knew the next year I was going to focus on the Mighty Nein, so I was excited to do the Campaign 2 version of that prompt and spent time throughout the year updating my list…only for there not to be a prompt on the CRInktober 2020 list that I could make it work for! 
> 
> Well, there was only one thing left to do then: add an extra chapter to the Critmas fic collection I was already planning—and so, here we are! Hopefully you enjoyed this and all the rest of the silliness I collected here. 
> 
> Thank you to everyone who read, commented, and left a Kudos: I wrote so much more this year than I have in the past, and I know there are many times I’d have been tempted to quite without all your lovely feedback keeping me going. Thank you guys so much!


End file.
